Good Little Girl

* * *

I’m drunk again. Really drunk. Beth and Stacy got in my face tonight, called me a skanky little slut. Beth said I’d been giving Richard the eye. Like fuck I had. He’s the prick who’s been trying it on with me ever since her birthday last September. I can’t stand him, anyway, his breath smells of eggs and by all accounts he has erection problems, Beth told me so.

Kyle was kind to me this evening, it even looked like he gave a shit. I tried to tell him who I am, what I want. Yeah, I know... fucking face palm city. He touched my knee, and it felt so fucking good. He sent me to bed, and like an idiot I wondered if he’d come after me. He didn’t. I followed him into his bedroom, yeah, yeah, what’s new? Only this time I went further. I watched him shower, and fuck, his ASS. It’s like steel...

* * *

A wave of nausea rose up from my gut. I scanned on, hardly able to read the words.

* * *

I watched him jerk himself off. It was so hot. Part of me can’t help but wonder. You know. Maybe, just maybe he was thinking about me...

* * *

I flicked back through the journal; pages and pages and pages of secrets that a man like me should never have access to. Through the nausea my dick was already hard, images of Aimee Rowley’s perfect little pussy spread open for me scorching my resolve, burning it to ashes. I found the entry six months earlier. The day I arrived in her life.

* * *

Mother has a husband. A fucking husband!! Out of nowhere, I mean what the fuck?! She dropped me a text message, a TEXT, to let me know I have a new stepdaddy. Fucking awesome. I wanted a stepdad my whole fucking life, and now I’m twenty she decides to marry some random? She’s such a BITCH. They are arriving home today, YES, to MY home, BOTH of them. Hey, Aimee, here’s your new dad. Like that’s NORMAL. Apparently his name is Kyle, and he’s some hotshot IT executive or some shit. I’m never going to be ok with this, EVER.

* * *

My blood turned to ice. Text message? Louise told her daughter about me by text message? I thought back to our wedding-day, our early morning conversation.

“Are you sure you want to do this now? What about your daughter? Wouldn’t she want to be here?”

Louise smiled, brushed it aside, as though it was the most ludicrous suggestion she’d ever heard. “Aimee? No! She’s a big girl, Kyle, she doesn’t need to be here. Believe me, Aimee won’t even care. She’s not that kind of girl.”

Seems Louise knew even less about her daughter than I did.

* * *

He’s here. Oh my God, he’s here. Daddy Kyle. I want to hate him, hate both of them, and I DO hate them, but it’s so much more fucked up than I thought it would be. He turned up with a suitcase, just like that. Held out his hand and said ‘Hi, I’m Kyle, but you can call me Dad’ like a real fucking comedian. He’s younger than Mother. Not much, but enough. And you know what? The thing I don’t get, after the ice-queen she’s been my entire life, the frigid, prudish, man-hating bitch she’s ALWAYS been, how the hell did she land a guy like him? He’s absolutely, insanely, ridiculously, obscenely, disgustingly hot. The guy’s huge, like HUGE. He was wearing a t-shirt and he is so fucking ripped you can see every muscle on him. His hair is so dark it looks black, apart from this tiny bit of grey he has above his ears, but even that looks hot on him. His eyes are green. GREEN under dark brows. He’s way out of Mother’s league. He shouldn’t BE here, not with HER!!!

I’m supposed to hate him, but now I just hate her even more. I expected to feel a lot of things with a brand new daddy in my house, but I didn’t expect to feel like this. I’ve never felt so jealous in my fucking life.

I’m crushing like crazy over my new daddy, the guy that’s fucking my mother. Can life get any more fucked up than this?

* * *

My hard-on disappeared, finally. At least there was some shred of morality in my filthy body. I was reeling, knocked for six. I flicked to a random page.

* * *

I’ve been horrible to Kyle-Dad for two whole months and he’s STILL here. I thought he’d have given up by now, fucked off back where he came from, but no. He hates me now, I know he does. Mother’s finally stopped parading him like a show pony. She hardly bothers with him at all. I haven’t seen them talk in days. She’s back on her phone again, planning trips again, like he never even arrived. I’m sure they’re not fucking, they act like they don’t even know each other.